Too Tender for Talk
by Kale12
Summary: They're rebuilding. JLU continuity. BMWW, past HGGL.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing.

* * *

Bruce tells her about Rex when she's already half-asleep; Diana feels the warmth of his breath through her hair before the sounds coalesce into meaning.

His arms tighten around her and she lets her fingers steal up to cover the wide plane of wrist and forearm. Even here in his bed, perhaps especially in his bed, she has learnt to be slow and cautious. Even now, he is more at ease if she can't watch his face while he speaks.

"Shayera knows?"

"No."

"John hasn't told her?"

"I don't think so," he answers, haltingly.

She turns her head just enough to press her lips to his arm, resisting the temptation to try and catch the expression on his face.

"She ought to know, Bruce."

"There are risks."

"Yes," she says simply. She doesn't let herself delve, as Bruce does, into concerns about muddled timelines and paradoxes. "But there's no way of knowing what you've already changed just by being there. Even Apollo rarely offers certainty." She had been given free reign of the temples, after all, god-favored child that she was. How often she had watched the oracles at work, a thousand interconnected points of light spread about them, flickering with each choice made, lines brightening and dimming on the strength of a word unsaid.

"You think I should tell her."

"I think John should tell her."

"And who's going to tell him that? Damn stubborn marine."

"I'll talk to him," she offers.

"You don't have to -"

"I will," she says firmly. "Though you knew I would."

"I thought you might."

"If we-," she pauses. "Would you have told me?"

His heartbeat doesn't change. There is the faintest murmur behind the steady rhythm, a softening of the brisk staccato she swears she can feel under her own skin. "I'll never lie to you, princess," he says.

The holoboard in the conference room was a mess of symbols and lines, meaningless scrawl to anyone who hadn't spent the day drawing up battle formations. Diana felt the beginnings of a headache brewing behind her eyes.

"Alright," said John, shuffling the screens into some semblance of order. "So we've got some basic drills and formations, and about a million or so field maneuvers that we can adapt according to team and objective."

"Let's keep the groupings broad, then. Offense, defense, rescue, and recon?"

"Add this to the bylaws and we've got ourselves a nice little playbook." John dragged his hands over his face. "Now they just gotta learn 'em."

"Hera," said Diana. "If you'd put this in front of me when I first arrived, I would have flown back to Themyscira, Man's World be damned."

"Bullshit. You would have ripped it in half and gone right on back to punching."

She laughed. "Yes, because I didn't need a book! Phillipus had me reciting battle plans before I knew my multiplication tables."

"Was it all, 'hit first, ask questions later'?"

"...only my favorites."

"Can we import an Amazon or two to train them? Or better yet, let's just send them there for boot camp."

"The idea has merit," mused Diana. "They haven't had any new recruits to torture in ages."

"I think we'd need to get them all back alive."

"I won't make you a promise I can't keep, John," she laughed. "Hang on," she said, as the comm beeped in her ear. "Wonder Woman."

"Alfred wants to know if you'll make it down for dinner."

She looked at the marked up sheets in front of her, and glanced at John, who was shuffling papers with the utmost deliberation. "Doubtful, we've still got a few more hours of work left, I'll just grab something here."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't wait."

"Goodnight, then."

"Be careful. On patrol, that is."

"You don't want an excuse to rescue me?"

She could feel her face grow hot; John continued to look pointedly in the opposite direction.

"I don't think you'd care for my methods," Diana said lightly.

"I'll be the judge of that."

He was smirking, she was sure of it, but he cut the connection before she could respond.

"John!"

"Di?"

"I need coffee."

They wandered back in companionable silence, sugar and caffeine cutting through the haze of exhaustion.

"So," said John, tone deceptively casual. "Why haven't you asked me about Warhawk?"

Diana caught his eye and grinned. "You talk more when you're tired. I was going to give you another ten minutes before I launched an attack."

"Offensive or recon?"

"Now, John," she chided. "You know I favor a direct approach. But now that we've conveniently broached the topic..."

"Your boyfriend's idea of pillowtalk leaves a lot to be desired."

"You expected sonnets?"

"A haiku, at least."

"I think Wally wrote me one of those."

"I know. The first drafts are still on the locker room wall."

"Plural? Flattering. Now stop changing the subject."

"I have a son. Or I might. There's a kid somewhere out there with my shoulders and her wings, and there isn't enough scotch in the world."

"He sounds beautiful," she said softly.

"He's a miracle. He's strong and he's smart, and I think I hate her more for this than I do for the invasion."

"Do you hate her?"

"Don't you?'

"Yes. No. I'm too tired to hate but I'm too angry to forgive. Would that my goddesses had given me more heart than spleen."

"But then where would Bruce be?"

She shrugged. "In his cave."

"There are easier options, Di."

"How's that working for you?" she countered.

John turned up his palms, a rueful gesture. "I could love Mari. You could love someone else."

"I don't burn for anyone else."

"Maybe that's better. Maybe you ought to make sure there's something of you left over."

"Who are we punishing, John?"

"We're superheroes, Diana. We punish ourselves all the time."

"I want to forgive her."

"Is that why you want me to tell her about Rex? As punishment?"

That stung, all the more for the sliver of truth in it, that rose up to choke her with its bitterness. "Is that why you won't? Too much like revenge?"

He looked away. "I'm afraid of the part of me that wants to draw blood."

"No matter that we do the cutting, John. We still bleed."


	2. Chapter 2

She knows when John tells Shayera. Diana begins seeing her in the medbay almost daily, collecting broken limbs and jagged lacerations with reckless abandon.

"She's going to kill someone," Superman said bluntly, at the next founders' meeting. "She's not holding back, and she's disobeying direct orders."

"Ground her," said Batman.

"For how long?" The frustration was evident on Flash's face. "Because I'm pretty sure giving her less to do is not the answer we're looking for."

"You think she'd go rogue if we inactivate her," Lantern stated flatly.

J'onn was the first the break the silence. "Her emotional status is...volatile."

Diana wrapped her lasso around her wrist, taking comfort from its familiar heat, so close to pain. She turned to John. "We could use a full time instructor."

Superman frowned. "You want to let her loose on the rookies? Is that wise?"

"Why not?" asked Flash. "She's at her best when she's bossing people around."

Batman looked thoughtful. "It's an elegant solution. It gives us a legitimate reason to take her out of the field, and the responsibility should have a beneficial effect."

Diana took a deep breath. "My apologies, John. I realize this puts you in a rather awkward position."

"It's not just John I'm worried about," said Superman, looking pointedly at her. "Are you going to be able to keep your temper?"

"Probably not," said Diana frankly. "But I'm a safe target, at least."

"What do you think, Lantern?" asked Superman.

"We need the help," John admitted. "And we're not going to come up with a better way to handle this. I can be professional."

"And perhaps Wally would lend his assistance?" Diana asked, turning to face him. "You would be a good buffer, and the younger ones look up to you."

"I'm just the only one they're not scared of," he grumbled. "But yeah, I'll help out."

Superman sighed. "I'll talk to Hawkgirl."

* * *

"She respectfully declined," said Clark the next day, somewhat delicately.

"She cursed you out and swung her mace at you," Wally helpfully translated.

"Yes," said Clark.

Diana sighed. "Where is she now?"

"Smashing droids. I'd give her a few minutes to cool down."

She snorted, and headed in the direction of the training rooms. "Wishful thinking, Kal."

It was too early in the day for the training deck to be occupied - most the of the vigilantes were at their alter-ego day jobs. Diana found Hawkgirl in one of the smaller rooms, swinging her mace in controlled, deliberate figure-eights. She was thin-lipped and white-knuckled and taut; she held her wings away from her body, like she can't bear to have them brush against her skin.

"They must really be worried if they sent royalty." Her voice was like rust.

"We _are_ worried," said Diana mildly, grabbing a staff as she moved smoothly into position.

"Worried about what I'll take down with me." Shayera met the staff with her mace almost idly.

She knew this pattern. Diana didn't even think she would remember until her muscles guided her neatly into a series of blocks. She could tell when it hit Shayera, too, the shock of familiarity, the twisting angles of their limbs as they spun and feinted.

How she had rejoiced to find her, a fierce warrior woman, and one with whom she could fly and fight and trade wicked curses. With whom she could laugh and rage at the absurdities of their strange new home. Her first new sister, her first heartbreak.

"I am not sorry for my anger," she said, pivoting sharply, missing a blow by mere inches. She stopped and looked Shayera in the eyes, both of them hovering. "But I am sorry for witholding my forgiveness."

Shayera charged, snarling. "Take your forgiveness and choke on it."

Diana wondered if the old Norse gods have influence on Thanagar, some line of winged berserker, death-spelled and terrible. She extended no more blows, only parried what she could. "I'm sorry."

"Bloodthirsty bitch," Shayera snarled, swinging the mace wildly. "You think your forgiveness means anything when you can't even punish me any further? You've shown me what my sins are worth, all of you."

Diana stood stone still, bracers absorbing each violent shock. Dimly, she registered that her muscles were screaming, that her ears were ringing with each blow, and the final _crack_ that sent her careening startled them both. Gingerly she lifted herself up off the mat, looking up warily, but Shayera had tucked her mace back in her belt and was floating down by her side.

Hawkgirl bowed her head. "I don't care if it was atonement or vengeance you wanted for my betrayal, you have both now."

Diana searched her face, more mobile in sorrow than it had ever been. "In my pride and foolishness, I demanded both and gave you nothing of compassion or understanding in return. Will you accept it of me now?"

Shayera held her gaze, steady. Her wings extended out fully before drawing back in. "I seek judgment."

"Shayera -"

"Please," she said softly, walking forward to sit near Diana's feet. "Use the lasso. Let me unburden myself."

Diana reluctantly pulled the lasso from her waist and looped one end around Shayera's wrist, then the other around her own.

"Those who serve on Thanagar carry a pill. It's standard issue, to take in case we weren't careful and found ourselves…" she trailed off.

"Pregnancy is rarely compatible with military service," Diana said wryly.

"Exactly," Shayera nodded, and took a deep breath. "Three days after the invasion, I realized -" she gulped. "I was late. I knew the signs."

"What would they have done if they knew?"

"They would have forced it down my throat. And even if I could have deceived them and kept it, what would I have done? I expected to die. I wanted to die. And in every scenario that involved me living, there was only misery and pain and punishment. I could damn myself freely, but a child?" she gestured helplessly.

Diana reached for Shayera's hand and found it ice cold, trembling faintly. "You did the right thing."

"What if it was Rex?"

"Maybe it was. Maybe you could have carried him, birthed him, and then lost him to every one of your fears. Or maybe all is as it was meant to be, because you made the best decision you could in the worst possible circumstances."

"I don't have that sort of faith, Diana."

"Then let that burden be mine," she said tenderly. "You asked for judgment, I've rendered it. Will you accept your penance?"

"I can't," Shayera said. "They're so young, I can't be around them and not think of my son."

"Good. Then teach them like you would your own child. Make them strong and smart."

"Will he stop haunting me, then?"

"No," said Diana softly. "But you'll become accustomed to his presence."

* * *

"Sorry looking bunch," John grumbled.

"Utterly undisciplined," agreed Diana.

Wally only groaned, looking out at the rowdy group of superheroes running drills in the training room. "Guys it's like their _first_ day, could you be any more judgmental?"

"Even the Army wouldn't take these punks."

"They would not last a day on Themyscira."

"Ok," Wally exhaled. "Didn't actually want an answer to that."

Booster Gold went flying past them.

"I know I should reprimand Dinah for that, but…" Diana sighed.

"He probably deserved it," admitted Wally.

"Half of them are showing off, and the others are just distracted," said John, gesturing at Question, currently examining the walls and muttering intensely.

"Perhaps our initial training plan was too ambitious."

"They just need a firm hand," said a voice by the door, and they all turned to look in surprise. Shayera looked more uncertain than she sounded, palming her mace and seemingly unable to take a closer step.

Diana stood up and crossed over, leading her back with a firm grip. "Have at them," she said. "I trust you."

"Glad you're here," said John with curt nod. He sounded like he meant it. Shayera flashed them a tight smile.

Diana was learning to live with uncertainty, to find her way through points of light and dark. Souls were heavy things, she found. She watched Shayera part through the crowd of recruits, barking orders and moving them into place. They were strong, they could bear it.


End file.
